Back To School

Aimee here. . .

It's back to school time again which brings many deep-seeded, forgotten memories flooding back-as well as reminds me why I can't stand pre-pubescent boys. (I'll get to that by way of recent example)

Last week I was shopping at a local department store. By shopping I mean that I went in for a very specific item, made a B-line to that department, chose my goods and made my way to the cashier.

On the way down the escalator to the cashier (yes, this store was big enough to have an escalator yet only a cashier was open), I noticed a line forming at the bottom of the Up escalator. Odd. Then I noticed a young boy-probably 11-13-trying to run down the up escalator. Now, I know he was not doing this because he discovered it was a faster mode than going down the engineered way, the mounting crowd at the bottom gave testiment to that. He was just a punk kid whose father was also at the bottom laughing and shaking his head in a 'boys will be boys' sort of endorsingly dismissive way.

Whatever. I had my stuff and wanted to get out of there. As I pass through the racks of juniors, misses and women's jeans, blouses and evening wear, I finally make out the cashier (again, the cashier, as in singular). Who is the party directly in front of me?? The obnoxious boy, his friend and his weekend dad. (Matt can tell you more about weekend dads)

The boys were rough-housing in front of me, almost knocking into me a couple of times. I heard things like 'you thought that was choking, what do you call this?' and 'do you think this would get caught in your throat if you swallowed it?' and the dreaded 'watch this!'. FINALLY, the weekend dad said what we were all thinking:

'Boys, stop that! Go outside.

Go play in the street. I mean. . .' (chuckles to himself)

Well, I meant it.

Anyway, with the boys gone and my purchase finalized, I started to think of a similar dynamic that I once found myself in. You see, everyone above was playing an age-old role. The permissive, jocular weekend dad, his asshole kid and the kid who was the only one nice enough to still be the brunt of the asshole kid's affections.

I was the latter. Mostly because I was new in town and didn't know any better. This girl had a reputation with a trail of visible bruises.
I will not disclose her full name but she was called the same as me: Amy. Amy lived on the street behind my cul-de-sac and was one of the first people I met while I was riding my bike around our new neighborhood.

At first glance, I thought she must have been a high-schooler because she seemed much older than me. By older I mean the sight of her prompted people like my mother to say things like 'Don't worry Aimee, some people just develop faster than others'. And older in the way she treated people-like they were all her underlings. But no, Amy was in my grade and as school time rolled around, in my class.

Amy was an only child. She had a swimming pool, her own room, closets full of new clothes and when she went to the grocery store she got to do things that I never was allowed. Things like get Pringles and liter bottles of Coke and ice cream and frozen pizza, afterwards stopping by Wendy's to get whatever she wanted there.

I knew this because if I was lucky enough to be at her house when it was time to go to the store, they would bring me along to witness and enjoy in all these fabulous things.

Well, joining in on this fabulousness came at a price.

I was Amy's whipping girl.

If she wanted any of these said wonderful groceries, I was demanded to get them for her from the kitchen. I was rewarded with a slug to the arm or a shove to the floor. If we were in the pool, one of her favorite ways to thank me for my friendship was to hold me under the water until she took mercy on my futile flailing (she had a good 20+lbs on me). I would burst to the surface, gasping and spitting to her laughing and pointing.

After the school year started I wised up and found nicer more development-commensurate friends. But I never fully put away my friendship with Amy. I think I may have just been replaced by a newer, slighter, more naive little girl.

Time passes and we all play our roles. I've been able to get a bit more selective in who I make time for as friends. As it turns out, they've ended up to be a lot like me. I'd like to think I'm still the nice one that even the bullies want to befriend. But as an adult, you get one free punch and then I'm walking.